


Hold Onto Me ('Cause I'm A Little Unsteady)

by whisperingwind



Series: epilepsy 'verse [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry, Canon Compliant, Dunkirk, Epilepsy, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingwind/pseuds/whisperingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis visits Harry on the set of Dunkirk. Harry has a seizure in the middle of filming. </p><p>Title from "Unsteady" By X Ambassadors</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Onto Me ('Cause I'm A Little Unsteady)

“Ah! You must be Louis. I’m Christopher Nolan. Pleasure to meet you.” 

Louis has to take a step back and take a good look at the man standing before him. Christopher Nolan, Oscar nominated, director of the Batman Trilogy and Inception, is actually stood before him. He’s actually directing a movie Louis’ own husband is starring in. 

“It is so nice to finally meet you.” Louis says as he takes Nolan’s hand to shake. “Harry has spoken very highly of you. He’s never been so excited. Thank you for giving him the opportunity.” 

“He’s massively impressive. I wasn’t about to pitch his talent.” Nolan says, smugly. “If I had to create a new original character for him, I would. Amazing guy he is.” 

Louis smiles. "He's good at everything he does. I'm not surprised. I think it's his charisma that gets him so far."    
  
"You don't see talent like that very often." Christopher replies, pushing his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. "I wasn't sure about casting a pop star as one of my leads, but when he came in for the casting call, he blew everyone away. Once he read for us, there was absolutely no competition. A proper match made in heaven. He's brilliant."    
  
"I know." Louis glances around the set. There's multiple tents set up with production crews all sat underneath, sharply pointing to screens and lowering their sunglasses as they speak. They're in a rundown area of London, which set designers then took a step further to destroy even more - only after gaining the permission to do so. The buildings are rustic, and looking as though they're about to collapse any moment. This particular area has existed since the early 1900s. "I think he needed to be doing something different anyway. What else was he going to do on break, you know?"   
  
"Exactly. We're excited to have him on board." Christopher smiles, clapping Louis on the shoulder. He towers over Louis, so to add onto his point, he leans down, lowering his voice. "And if there's anything you need us to be aware of, don't hesitate. It's going to be a strenuous few months and you need to understand, he'll be pushing his own limits. He has made me aware of his medical condition and I told him if there’s anything he needs from us to tell us right away."    
  
Louis nods. "It's a war movie. He understood what he got himself into when you gave him the part."    
  
"I'm only making myself clear. I don't want his physical wellbeing to be totaled due to the obstacles he's going to be asked to put himself through on set. He's done a great job with maintaining the weight we asked him to. I'm sure it won't be a problem.” Nolan gestures for Louis to follow him to the cameramen, where they’re all introduced to one another, before he has Louis take a seat beside him as Harry and a few other actors take the scene.

Louis’ only on set to observe. He wants to see Harry act as he’s never seen him professionally do so and he knows Harry’s filming a few scenes today. The day may be halfway over, yet Louis still has made his appearance, only because he wants to watch Harry do what he does well. Act. Charm people. Make them fall in love with him. 

The only problem is they’re not even ten minutes into filming the scene when chaos initially begins to occur. 

"Nolan! Something's wrong with your kid out there." One of the cameramen says, pointing to where Harry's sat against a brick wall with other actors. 

Louis sits forward, eyes darting to focus on Harry. He notices he can hardly hold his head upright and his lips are drooping slightly. The other actors on set have turned to him, reaching out to comfort him. Fionn Whitehead has pushed his way through production crew, squatting down in front of him.    
  
"No, no, no." Louis chants under his breath.  _ Not now. Don't do this to him now. Wait until we get home, not on set. Let him live. Let him get through today without a fit. He's been doing so well.  _   
  
Christopher looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at Louis. "Is he okay?"   
  
"He's having a seizure." Louis mutters, finally recognizing it as he rubs his chin.  _ Why now? It must be me. I must bring along bad luck. _  "Is it...I need to be with him. They can get rather severe and if I'm not with him I can guarantee he's going to start hitting and screaming."     
  
Nolan nods. "Of course, of course. Give him what he needs. Feel free to tell everyone what you need to help him.”   
  
He doesn’t have to tell Louis twice. Louis’ running out to Harry before anyone else so much as notices something is seriously wrong. “Hey love. What’s going on, huh? Are you feeling sick?” he asks, lowering himself to kneel beside Harry. “Can you talk me through how you’re feeling? Are you unwell?” 

Harry tries to speak, but all he can manage are four or five thick swallows, causing his Adam’s apple to bob. “Leh…” he groans. 

“Easy. Take it easy for me angel.” Louis whispers, feeling Harry’s clammy face with the back of his hand. Harry doesn’t take his advice in mind, in fact, he tries to sit up, only to tumble forward and have Louis steady him by gripping onto his arms. 

Harry starts to fight his hold, weakly jerking his shoulders back, but Louis holds on tighter. His husband’s obviously rather confused and incoherent. He wouldn’t fight if he knew better.    
  
"No, no. It's okay. I’ve got you." Louis whispers, aiding Harry into laying down on the cement. "You're going to be okay love." Harry lets out a brash cry, one that must burn the back of his throat, and Louis can only wince and continue to remind him that he's in safe hands. "I'm right here. It's going to be alright baby. Let's get you settled and I'll take you right on home after."    
  
Fionn narrows his eyes as his lips draw into a tight line. "Is there anything you need from me?" he asks.   
  
Louis' in the middle of getting Harry situated on the ground when Fionn speaks. "Would you mind finding some kind of pillow for him? A thick jumper will work just as well." He doesn't look at anyone but Harry as he speaks, instead he tries to encourage his aching husband to relax his muscles. "Relax baby, relax. It’s okay. Let's get you on your side. C'mon love. I'm going to hold your shoulders and roll you over. All I need is for you to relax for me." Louis whispers, touching Harry's cheek before grabbing hold of his shoulders. Harry sobs as soon as Louis tries to move him. "Shh, I know baby, I know. Stay with me a few more seconds, okay? Just a few more seconds, that's all I need." He very slowly moves Harry onto his side, holding onto his shoulders, and trying his hardest to ignore Harry’s cries. "I'm going to stay right by your side baby. I'll be right here. It's gonna be okay." Louis whispers, brushing a piece of his short, well kept hair off his forehead.    
  
He doesn't want Harry to seize, not ever, but especially not now. Not in front of a oscar nominated director, not in front of a prioritized crew, not in front of an A-list cast. He wants him to enjoy the movie role, enjoy his fellow actors, the set, the direction, and not have a intense fit in front of everyone. He's a slurring mess as of now, fumbling over words that usually fall off his tongue with charisma and intellect, and struggling to move his mouth to enunciate. "You're okay, sweetheart. You don't have to talk. I know it’s hard baby, I know. Just stay calm for me, please, I’m trying my hardest.”    
  
Louis can't understand a word of what Harry's saying, so he only continues to sit beside him and rub gentle circles along the dip in his back. "We'll go home right after this, okay? We'll lay down in the big bed and we can cuddle for the rest of the night. I just need you to get this out of the way first. That's all I need from you. Nothing else. I take care of the rest.”    
  
Fionn comes barreling through any and all spectators with two blankets pulled against his chest. “I snatched blankets from one of the trailers.” He drops down to his knees, but as Louis goes to take them from him, Fionn says, "What do you need from me mate? Your hands are shaking and you're a proper wreck. Let me help you."   
  
Louis nods. He can feel Harry tense beneath him, and he realizes it's a matter of time, whether it be seconds or minutes, he can't be sure. "I'm going to hold his head up, so if you could fold the blanket and stick it underneath there." He gently slides his hand beneath Harry's head, creating a barrier between his flesh and the cement, and places his other on Harry's neck before lifting his head up. Harry whines and presses his head against Louis' touch. "I love you. You're okay." he hums whilst kissing Harry's temple.    
  
Fionn bundles the blanket before stuffing it underneath Harry's head and Louis helps Harry lay his head down, against the fabric. He massages Harry's scalp with nimble fingertips. All he wants is for Harry to be as comfortable as possible as he can’t stop what’s impending. Aiding how Harry feels is all he can do. "Can you lay the other blanket over his waist?"    
  
"Why's that? I understand the one for the head but..." Fionn stops himself, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the blanket's fuzzy fabric.    
  
"He'll piss all over himself and I don't want him to feel anymore embarrassed when he comes to." Louis says, softly, avoiding Fionn's surprised stare.    
  
"That's understandable." Fionn mutters and drapes the blanket across Harry's hips. 

Meanwhile, Harry's grabs at the air with his hand and Louis draws in a shaky sigh. "What are you touching love?" Louis asks as he reaches for Harry's hand and intertwines their fingers. “What do you see? Can you tell me what it is honey?”    
  
"Buggerfy." Harry groans, facial expression contorting into a look of discomfort, and tries to pull away from Louis' hand. “Bu...fy.”    
  
"I bet it's a pretty _ butterfly _ , love. Green like your beautiful eyes." Louis looks to where Harry is and nods his head, pretending that he sees this butterfly that Harry's worked up over. Tears are forming in his eyes. All he wants to do is help Harry from this, help him to not completely be taken over by convulsions and sobs, help him not piss himself, help him be comfortable in his own skin, but he can’t. He’s never been able to, and it kills him.    
  
Harry laughs and lolls his head against the blanket. Though, in the midst of his laughing, a loud gasp pushes past his lips, and his body goes rigid. Louis watches the seizure flash vacancy through Harry’s eyes and cause them to roll back. The convulsions flood in, starting with a blood-curdling screech, and twitching at first. Soon, it’s much more than twitching, and he knows Harry’s gone. This isn’t Harry. This is the epilepsy. 

"Shit." Louis hisses through clenched teeth, sitting back on his heels as he observes his spasming husband. He advises Fionn to move back. "It's okay baby. You're okay. Keep breathing for me. You're doing so good."    
  
Harry flips onto his back within a matter of seconds, thus making Louis' prior efforts a bit misconstrued. He moves forward to adjust the blanket beneath his head and then the blanket on his hips, which has already stained a little. He uses his fingertips to rub against Harry's sternum. He finds that it's comforting for the both of them. "You're doing so well, so, so well. I wouldn’t lie to you. Stay with me angel, you've got to stay with me."     
  
No one else matters right now. Fionn fucking Whitehead doesn't matter, Christopher Nolan doesn't matter, the rest of the cast doesn't matter, the cameramen, the crew, the bystanders, no one else matters aside from Harry. "Come on love. Stop seizing, stop seizing for me, I'll be right here when you come to. C'mon." he whispers, continuing to rub at Harry's chest.    
  
His husband's bucking off the filthy, dirt ridden cement, crying, _ sobbing _ , and it's physically harming him, every inch of his being aches, yet there's still nothing he can do aside from staying by his side and being there for him.   
  
He doesn't mean to focus on the scar, but it's almost as if God's light has shone on it and he can't look anywhere but there. The scar isn't as prominent and angry as it once had been, now it's a curved line prodding through Harry's shaved hair. It protrudes slightly with a puffy white appearance, but it’s a constant of the surgery Harry once endured.   
  
Harry hates when people stare at it. When he had to shave his head, yet again, for this movie role, he had a lot of trouble coming to terms with it. Louis would catch him stood in the bathroom, tracing the outline over and over again, and he would stare at his head in any reflective surface they passed. It made Louis upset, really, to have Harry distraught over his appearance. 

He starts to focus again when a perpetual cry explodes past Harry’s lips. “I know, I know, I know.” he says when there’s nothing else to be said.

The seizure starts to come to a stop after another minute of Harry convulsing on a debris filled floor, and Louis leans in, listening for his rapid intake of air.

“Is he okay?” Fionn asks. 

Louis sighs. “I’ll know for certain when he comes to, but I think so. His breathing sounds alright and he didn’t hit his head.”   
  
Harry starts to come to a few minutes later. His breathing expels out of his mouth in fast, loud wheezes. "That's it love. C'mere, c'mere angel," Louis whispers, taking Harry into his arms. Harry's no longer convulsing, rather trembling against touch. He buries his face against Louis' neck, crying. Louis presses his lips to his head. "Oh I know, yes I know baby," he coos, holding him to his chest. "It's alright. You're okay now. I'm right here with you. Relax for me."   
  
Louis rubs circles against the small of Harry's back. He sees Fionn grabbing the blanket that was bundled beneath Harry’s head out of the corner of his eyes and he can't help but narrow his eyes at him. Before he can ask what he's doing, Fionn's draping the blanket around Harry's shoulders. Harry doesn't even bother looking up. 

For all Louis knows, he may not know even where he is. When he pulls away, holding Harry away at arm's length, he sees the blood infused spit coming out of his mouth, and he doesn't say a word as he wipes Harry's mouth and chin. "Are you with me, love? Do you know who I am?" he asks.    
  
Harry groans, head lolling forward to rest on Louis' arm, and his body jerks with a shiver. Fionn continues to watch the two of them, hesitating when he sees that Harry's still hasn't completely come to. "He alright?" he bothers to ask.   
  
"Yeah, sometimes it takes him a little while longer to come out of it," Louis whispers, pressing his lips to the side of Harry's head. "You're safe. I'm going to take you home as soon as you start to feel better." He holds Harry tight, shutting his eyes, and laying there in silence.   
  
Nolan comes over to them after a few more minutes has passed and kneels in front of them. He touches Louis' shoulder, uncertain if he's allowed to touch Harry at this current time. "Is he going to be alright? I've never seen a seizure. That was dreadful." he says. "Never heard someone cry like that."   
  
"It's an attack on the nervous system. He doesn't stand a chance fighting against it." Louis replies, listening closely when he hears Harry's breath finally begin to level, and tugs the blanket firmly around his husband. "He'll be okay. It's just taking him a little while to come to."   
  
Nolan nods, understanding. "Does he know where he's at?"    
  
"Honestly, I don't he does. He hasn't looked up yet and usually he wants wander a bit after seizures. I have to put locks on all the doors in the house. Last time I caught him trying to use the fridge as a toilet." Louis can laugh about it now, but in the moment it was everything but funny trying to get Harry to put his dick back in his boxers.

Harry groans against Louis' neck, sucking in a loud breath of air, and Louis weakly smiles. “Is there anything I can do for either of you?” Nolan asks. 

"Now that you mention it, do you think you could go find me a water bottle?"   
  
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Nolan disappears and Louis pulls away from Harry, staring at his pale complexion. 

"Are you with me?  _ Love _ ?" he touches his cheek, guiding him closer. Harry shakes his head, eyes closing, and jerks away from Louis' touch. He shrugs the blanket off and puts his hands flat on the pavement, planning to stand himself up until his arms give out and Louis moves to grab him before his face collides with cement. "No, no, you need to take it easy. You had a major seizure, love, please settle down. You don't have to lay on your back or lay still, but I need you to relax. Please?"    
  
Harry whines as Louis holds his head. "I know you want to go home, but we can't, not yet Harry, okay? I need to make sure you're okay before we leave. Can you talk?" he asks.    
  
Harry groans in response. At least he’s trying to form words, even if he is unsuccessful.    
  
"You're really out of it, aren't you?" Louis whispers, running his hand through the longer parts of Harry's hair, and kisses his forehead. "It’s okay. We’ll be home soon.” 

Louis is starting to hope that Harry at least regains strength in his legs as he isn’t exactly sure that he’ll be able to carry him, now that he’s put on quite a bit of weight in muscle. Harry’s eyes roll, mouth opening and closing slightly as he tries to say something, anything, but he’s a prisoner to his own body, completely and sincerely, unable to say his even his husband’s name. 

Nolan reappears soon enough, squatting down to pass the water bottle over to Louis, and Louis whispers a grateful acknowledgement. “Come on sweetheart. I’m going to help you sit up, so we can get some water in you. That alright?” Harry weakly nods, and so Louis sets the water down beside him, rearranging his hands to hold underneath Harry’s arms, and pulls him to sit flat on his bum. 

He can hardly hold himself upright even whilst sat down, therefore Louis has to take the initiative and slide an arm around his waist, tugging him closer, so he’s cradling him like a little boy. He uses his other hand to uncap the water bottle and lift it to Harry’s lips. “Open up for me love. Just a few sips, that’s all you need.” 

Harry manages to open his mouth, though as soon as Louis tips the spout to Harry’s mouth, the water spills down his chin, and down the front of his soldier uniform. “No no no. Come on Harry. One big sip and that’s it. Why can’t you just -” he stops himself. Harry  _ can’t  _ because he just had a big fucking seizure, you heartless asshole, and you don’t have any sort of reasoning to be angry at him for something he can’t control. 

Nolan sighs, rubbing his forehead, “Do you need helping getting him out of here?” 

“He’s never like this. I’m so sorry.” Louis whispers, glancing down at Harry who’s now pressed his face against his chest, and rubs his thumb over his younger husband’s bicep. “I don’t think he can walk, not if he can’t even hold his head up.” 

“It’s okay. I knew what I was getting myself in when I casted him, and I don’t think my decision was a mistake at all. Let’s just be glad he didn’t have an episode on the beach or when we were working with pyrotechnics, then it would have been a huge problem.” Nolan looks to Fionn, who has occupied himself with conspicuously doing everything in his ability to not stare at Harry. “We’re going to call it a day, Fionn. Do you think you can give Louis here a hand getting Harry to the car?” 

Fionn looks to them. “Of course. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it to my best ability.” 

“Thanks.” Louis forces a smile, and suddenly a certain smell hits his nose, and he knows that Harry’s wet himself even before he looks down at his soiled trousers. “Shoot. What are we going to do about his costume?” he asks. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Just worry about getting him home and rested up. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we’ll see how he’s doing. If worse comes to worse we can continue parts of production without him.” Nolan touches Louis’ shoulder and squeezes. “Let him know that we’re all thinking of him.” 

Louis nods, watching as the director takes a step back, and subsequently looks to Fionn. “I have no idea when his coherency is going to come back, and he isn’t able to walk, so what I need from you is to come here, help me get him stood up, and we’re going to carry him to the car.” 

Fionn doesn’t hesitate. He does as Louis asks, taking one of Harry’s arms and hoisting it around his shoulders, before slowly supporting part of his weight to get him on his feet. Harry whines, trying to jerk away from the young man’s touch, but Louis touches his chest, reminding him that, “We’re trying to get you to the car, okay? He’s not going to hurt you. I just can’t carry you by myself this time around.” 

And with that Harry starts crying again, body trembling, eyes tearing up, lip curling slightly as the cries intensify, “Oh H.” Louis whispers, turning himself in slightly, so he’s facing the once curly-haired lad. He moves his hand that isn’t holding Harry’s waist from his chest to rest on his cheek. “Please don’t cry. It’s going to be okay, I promise. Things will be better once we get home.” 

Had this fit happened at home, Louis would’ve let him lay on the floor, would have brought him a pillow and a blanket, and would have laid on the floor beside him. But that’s not what happened, and Louis needs what little energy Harry has to get him settled in at least the car. 

“I love you, babe, please don’t cry. I know you don’t feel good.” Louis presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “Come on Fionn, just take it slow with him, he’ll calm down.” 

And slowly, footstep by footstep, pacing themselves, Louis and Fionn are able to find a rhythm they can keep Harry balanced at. Louis’ car isn’t too far, but far enough that Harry’s body is starting to give again, knees collapsing inwards, and feet dragging. 

Once the Range Rover is in sight, Louis can finally breath. “Do you want him in the front or back?” Fionn asks. 

“Uh…” Louis glances at his looming love. “Do you want to sit in the front or back, love? Can you point?” 

Harry sticks his tongue out before attempting to speak. “Frrr…”

“Okay.” Louis whispers, interrupting him. “The front it is.” Louis leans him against the car, holding him by his shoulders, as Fionn pulls the passenger door open. Cautiously, they help Harry into the front seat, buckling him in tight. 

Fionn shuts the door after him and turns to face Louis. “I hope he feels better.” 

“Yes, me too.” Their eyes lock for a brief second. “Thank you for all your help. A lot of people completely freeze when Harry has his seizures. It’s mostly shock that does it to them, but I can always admire someone who can act fast and help him.” 

“He’s a good guy. One of the nicest guys I’ve met in ages. I know it’s been only a matter of weeks, but I would do anything for him.” Fionn says, which, for some reason, brings a smile to Louis’ face. He doesn’t have to say anything to get his opinion across. “Well, I ought to get back to set. It was nice to meet you.” he says. 

“And you. I’ll see you around.” Louis watches the younger man walk away from them. At least he knows there’s someone on set who understands Harry’s condition to some extent. 

He rounds the car and climbs in. When he looks over, Harry has his head pressed to the window, looking awfully gloomy, and so he reaches over and squeezes his kneecap. “It’s okay, you know? I know you’re upset, but it really is okay. Everyone understands and I was there to help you. It’s okay.” 

Harry mumbles a dissonant reply, and Louis only squeezes his knee a bit tighter. “We’re okay too. You’ll be back on set before you know it. Life goes on. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.” 

And it appears it does, given the hurdles the two of them have faced in prior weeks, months, years, but they’ve made it this far. That’s more than either of them could ever ask for.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I was going to add onto epilepsy 'verse but here I am. I had a severe case of writer's block and epilepsy fic writing seems to always provoke some new ideas, plus you guys seem to really like it. You guys know the deal. Thanks for kudos, hits, bookmarks, recs, comments, etc. and also make sure to contact me if you'd like to see me write anything in particular (either here or my tumblr: troubleistheonlywaydown.tumblr.com). feel free to give me a follow on twitter @terrestrialhaz (we can be super cool mutuals!) Huge love - E.x


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